“No!” Bea shrieked in the school chancellor’s office, standing in front of the grand window and gesturing vehemently in protest. The strong sunlight against her back cast a wild shadow puppet show onto Calpurnia’s antique desk.  “Have you completely lost your mind? This is Valere! Valere! The Umbral? The Deathbringer’s Mask? Is this ringing any bells?” 

Her tirade began as soon as they entered the room, and the delicate crystalline trinkets on Calpurnia’s pristine shelves trembled from the furious woman’s shrill pitch. Ori wasn’t particularly inclined to stop her friend, either. Ori leaned against the wall facing Calpurnia’s desk and nodded along to Bea’s declarations. The group openly opposed Juno’s decision the second she made it known, and they bickered all the way from the school gates to the administrative wing. 

Valere posed a danger to them and to everyone they took responsibility for. 

Dikai and Praxi were Empire sponsored schools for Conduits of Cosmic and Chthonic Divinity, respectively. These Conduits were separated by their affinities and interests for one of the two Deities. Aretes were Conduits who created and sustained life at Dikai. Conversely, the Cacia, who explored shortening and ending life, attended Praxi.

Students received tailored educations at these institutions with their comprehensive lessons about the Divine, Divinity, and the practices of Conducting Divinity through magic. Nobody who sent their children to Dikai anticipated that the school would have so many run-ins with the Deathbringer or his many pawns. 

In the past year alone, a club at Dikai’s sister school had accidentally summoned Valere while trying to conduct Divine power from the Underworld. He had then proceeded to topple every political and religious stronghold that played a role in his initial capture. He had turned Bea’s father into a political figurehead, imprisoned Calpurnia, and tried to kill them on more than one occasion. Valere had made it his mission to sow terror everywhere he went, and they had made it theirs to stop him. 

Yet, somehow, Calpurnia and Juno determined that cooperating with him this time made a shred of sense. 

“Beatrix, please,” Chancellor Calpurnia sighed heavily. She sat in a high-backed, cream colored armchair, facing all of them from behind her desk. The chancellor wore a clean pantsuit a few shades lighter than the cream colored upholstery of her chair, and her graying hair was pinned back stylishly.

Calpurnia was a neat and elegant woman whose presence exuded light and comfort. She placed great faith in her students and guided them through many obstacles that arose over the years. Ori had always admired the chancellor’s poise whenever they had found themselves in times of duress, especially when faced with the root of all destructive powers.

For the first time, it seemed like Calpurnia’s light dimmed.

“I don’t like this any more than you,” the chancellor said grimly, “but we don’t have a choice.”

“Don’t have a choice?” Bea repeated with disbelief, and the rest of the women launched into discordant protests from their various places along the adjacent wall. 

The man seated in the middle of the office brought nothing but misery! After everything they went through to get rid of him, Ori couldn’t believe that Calpurnia and Juno were asking them to even consider listening to him. 

The man in question appeared completely unbothered and observed silently with a mocking gleam in his eye. The artificial Vessel crafted by the Deathbringer’s own hands settled comfortably in the chair across Calpurnia while the girls argued. It felt like a trap, and Ori hated everything about it. 

“Perhaps you’d like to hear what I have to say first,” Valere offered. 

He didn’t even raise his voice to speak over the young women, but they all heard him and fell silent. A quiet rage filled the room as they were, once again, reminded of his presence. 

“I was actually hoping we’d never have to hear your voice again,” Ori retorted in a honeyed tone laced with venom. 

“Aurelia,” Calpurnia chided in exasperation, “just listen.” 

The gladiatrix scowled and crossed her arms across her chest in quiet defiance. 

“Thank you, Calpurnia,” Valere spoke with ease, as if he was a guest in their home. “I’m sure you all remember our last encounter, so I’ll spare myself the story of humiliating defeat. The invocation Juno enacted successfully cast me out of this plane, and it delivered me directly to the Chthonic Vessel’s feet. After berating me for my failures, Apollyon the Deathbringer made it clear that he intends to end this everlasting battle between the Chthonous and the Cosmos once and for all.”

“That’s not possible,” Minerva interjected from the armchair next to Ori, positioned in the corner of the room to face Calpurnia and Valere. “Apollyon’s just a Vessel, like you and Juno. Even if he’s a host for the Chthonic Deity, there’s no way for him to take on the Cosmos.”

The shadows on his face darkened as his expression twisted into a sardonic smile. “You’d be correct if Apollyon was a mortal Vessel.”

“Are you saying he’s not?” Cece snapped, half-sitting on and half-leaning against the windowsill next to Bea.

“They call him the Deathbringer for a reason. The man shaped this very empire your school was built upon. He was an Akero, more than a man and less than a Deity. What exactly are you teaching these students, Calpurnia? They should at least know this much. ”

“We know the legends.” Minerva bristled defensively at the insult to her intelligence. “It’s the very foundation of magic. Akero were the winged residents of the heavens who served the Cosmos. When the Akero rebelled in the heavens…” Minerva’s voice trailed off, and Ori watched her face go white like chalk. “You can’t possibly mean…”

“Go on,” Valere waved impatiently. 

“The Akero who were cast out of the heavens became angels on earth,” she continued shakily. “Apollyon was one of them?”

Valere barked a sharp laugh. 

“One of them? He was their general! He led them to ruin. When he descended to the Underworld, he created the Locusts and brought all sorts of havoc to the world. Apollyon the Deathbringer, Prince of Darkness. I’m sure you know the rest?” His ember eyes landed on the priestess standing beside Calpurnia, and he directed the words at her mercilessly. 

Juno glared back at him with unwavering hatred, and Ori couldn’t blame her.

“As I was saying,” Valere continued, “he has taken it upon himself to wage another war against the Cosmos. There’s an army of Locusts growing in the Underworld, and they’re wearing down the barriers trapping him there. All of you managed to weaken him when you battled in the Necrotheion and fortified the barriers, and in the process, you damaged his pride, dooming us all. Congratulations.”

“If that’s really the case, then why did you come to warn us?” Cece demanded. 

“My very existence depends on my possession of both Cosmic and Chthonic Divinity. Apollyon may have created me, but he has no regard for my will. As far as he’s concerned, I’m a tool on the run. Once he finished finding fault with me, he attempted to reclaim the power that he used to create me. He’s willing to tear both aspects of my Divinity away, and I’d prefer to keep my life and my magic. I assume your fearless leader feels the same about her Divinity?”

“You expect us to just… believe you?” Ori voiced the skepticism they were all thinking. Admittedly, his story planted a seed of anxiety in her mind. Compared to Apollyon, Valere was just a nuisance. “How can we be sure that this isn’t another one of your elaborate plans to bring Rhomai, Centra, and all the other states to their knees?”

He rolled his eyes, as if growing bored of their suspicions. “You saw the Locusts yourself. I was able to slip through the barrier and had just enough power left to find Dikai. I’m utterly helpless.” 

Somehow, she doubted his claim. If he really was helpless, he wasn’t acting like it. 

“It sounds impossible,” Bea added. “We bested Apollyon before, and there’s no way Juno’s power can just be wiped out like that.”

Ori nodded as the others echoed Bea’s confidence. If there was anything Ori learned during her time at Dikai, it was that the Juno’s Cosmic power rivaled even a fallen Akero possessed by the seed of destruction. Juno wielded a magic unlike anything Ori had ever seen. Her ability to bring light and life was more intense than anyone else’s and plowed through their enemies with unrelenting ferocity.

Yet, Ori’s stomach twisted and turned with doubt. They never defeated their enemies easily. Fortifying the barrier to the Underworld had nearly cost them their lives, and they had almost lost everything they cared about in the process of ousting Valere. They had barely managed to defeat Apollyon the first time, and even then, he hadn’t been at his full strength. 

“I’m afraid that isn’t necessarily true,” Calpurnia refuted, almost apologetic as she regarded her favored students. “Chthonic Divinity is the natural opposite of Cosmic Divinity.”

Valere hummed in agreement with the aging chancellor, “And the god that Apollyon intends to use can render Cosmic and Chthonic Divinity useless.” 

For the first time, they were rendered speechless.

Ori never heard of such a thing. The very universe revolved on the premise of dualism. The Cosmos and the Chthonous. The Akero and the Umbra, and the Aretes and the Cacia who conducted their Divinity. The Heavens and the Underworld. Light and Dark. Good and Evil. Creation and Destruction. Whatever they were named, the balance between these two forces preserved harmony throughout essential nature. Every empire and kingdom accepted this truth. Temples from the beginning of time served the two deities, but nobody ever mentioned a third. 

The first person Ori looked to among her friends was Minerva. The talented infomancer’s jaw slackened, and she made no attempt to contest the claim. So, Ori gathered that there were, at least, some records in existence about a third deity. Then, her gaze slid to Juno, who stood closest to Calpurnia’s grand chair. The priestess dug her nails into the skin of her arms crossed over her chest, and Ori saw the faintest tremble of her upper lip. Finally, Ori returned her attention to Valere. The composure he had regained in Calpurnia’s office wavered. He held tension in his jaw and shifted slightly in the chair. She realized the ease he projected was a farce. 

She misread his bravado.

He feared the devil, too.